The Lost Tales of Beedle the Bard: The Good House
by Tuzilla
Summary: This is story #7 from a recently discovered cache of stories by Beedle. What could possibly happen when a mean-spirited wizard moves into The Good House?


**The Good House**

 _There was once a large house on the edge of the town of Barnstow._ It was called The Good House because it had been the home of the Good family for six generations. The Goods were a magical family who secretly lived among the muggles for many years. The Goods had a fine reputation among the muggle community. They created a long history of helping their neighbors with potions and other healing, fixing occasional issues, and making excellent foods and drink.

This changed when Demona Good died. She had never married and therefore left the world and the house without any heirs to care for it.

A wizard named Iratus Frugge bought the house at auction and moved into it. The Goods always had a reputation as excellent neighbors, but Iratus not so much. He was decidedly antisocial, not caring to mix or speak with the townsfolk. He was also known to be rude to the occasional visitor to his house.

Shortly after moving in a group of tattered neighbor children were a game with sticks and balls too near to the house in his mind. He cast a few spells causing their sticks to break and their balls to bounce away into the trees. He smiled as they walked away with sad faces.

The next time he saw them, they had new clothes and much nicer sticks and balls. They were playing happily in a field away from his house. This still caused him to frown.

Later that same day he dropped his favorite teacup. As he bent to pick up the pieces, he caught his sleeve on the arm of a kitchen chair causing it to tear almost to the elbow. This was the end of his happy mood left over from chasing the kids.

The house had a wonderful garden of useful plants and herbs behind it. It had been created over the generations by various Goods to aid in the making of potions and tea. Demona had left in beautiful condition when she passed. Iratus did not tend it with her delicate hand, but he kept it well.

Demona enjoyed the birds, bees and butterflies that joined her during her gardening chores. Iratus was more likely to ignore them or chase them away with his hat if they got too close.

One fall day a rangy, feral-looking cat ventured into the garden while he was picking herbs. It was probably lured there by the catnip. He used a swat with a Calvio curse to chase it away. It left large clumps of its fur behind as it disappeared out of sight. The next day he saw another cat in the garden, this one with the most spectacular, long and brown coat he had ever seen. He thought to go chase it away like the other one but decided to just ignore it.

That night he noticed in the mirror that his thick, brown hair was thinning to where a bald spot was developing in the back. " _When did this happen_?" he thought. " _I hadn't noticed this before_."

The rest of his first year in the house passed without serious incident. He cursed a few animals that got to close to his garden. Children who played too close to the house or made too much noise were punished with various curses. The occasional knocker at the door was sent off, usually with a curse or hex that would either make the ill or embarrass them in front of others.

Iratus' luck over the same period was mostly fine. The garden had not produced as well as expected, but that could be attributed the weather. He continued losing his hair. No spell he could muster seemed to stop the hair loss. He broke the occasional plate or cup due to clumsiness, which he also blamed for a couple of falls. His clothes seemed to be showing their age by splitting seams and tearing a little too frequently. None of it seemed cause for alarm.

One day in late November a pair of women appeared at his door. They were collecting for the needy so they could have nice Christmases. They also wanted him to come to the benefit dance at the town hall the following Saturday night.

"The poor are poor because they are lazy," he told them. "They can work like everyone else if they do not want to be poor."

He sent them away with nothing to show for their effort except a hiccupping for the first one and sneeze curse for the second. As to their dance, he placed a curse on it, as well.

Big, black clouds began to gather early on the night of the party. By the time the party started, it was raining quite steadily. None of it deterred the partyers. They filled the table with food and a band started playing.

Before long, flashes of lightning were filling the air and claps of thunder were drowning out the music. Still, the party went on with people enjoying the food, dancing and donating money and goods to the cause.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a thunderous boom. Seconds later a huge oak tree came crashing through the roof and onto the dance floor. As people screamed and ran, a fire began climbing the walls and burning the table of donations. Then they noticed one of the women who had organized the event laying crushed under the trunk of the tree. It was a disaster.

Iratus could see the orange light of the fire from his seat in his parlor where he was reading. He rose and climbed the stairs to get a better view of the situation from his bedroom window.

He pressed forward against the window for a better look. "Good enough for them," he thought as he watched the flames. Then the windows swung open and he tumbled out, falling onto the cobblestone walk up to his front door.

When some of the townsfolk found his dead body a couple days later he was completely bald and his clothes were tattered. All of his other belongings were neatly stacked outside of the house.

The answer to the mystery of his death and the tale of his time there was never fully understood by the people of Barnstow. However, when his niece, also a witch, took possession of the house, she returned it to its former kindly friendship with the town and The Good House once again stood for good in Barnstow.


End file.
